Rejected and special

Chapter 1

Jamie's POV

"GET UP, JAMIE, AND MAKE US BREAKFAST!!"
The screech rattled the attic door. One of the pack members again.

I jolted out of bed, heart pounding. Good thing I slept in my clothes—no time to waste. I bolted down to the kitchen and turned on the stove, already knowing the drill:
300 eggs, 600 strips of bacon, 900 slices of toast, and 10 damn salads.

I cooked, scrubbed the dishes, and laid everything out. Like clockwork. Then I snuck back upstairs to my dusty little attic room, waiting for the pack to leave for school.

You see, I'm not allowed to go.
I'm an omega—the bottom of the food chain. The weak link. The maid. The invisible girl with calloused hands and a cracked heart.

*3 hours later*

The last car pulls out the driveway. Showtime.

First, the kitchen. I scoop up dishes—plates in one hand, utensils in the other—and drop them into the sink. Warm water. Soap. Scrub. Again.

Then the game room. A war zone of toys, sticky candy wrappers, and board game pieces. I clean it all.

Next, the living room. I yank the rug outside, beat the dust out of it, and hang it over the line before heading back in to clean the couch.

The pack members' rooms come next. Thankfully, most of them keep their rooms neat. Small wins.

Finally... the Alpha's room.
I take a deep breath. This one takes at least two hours.

The moment I open the door, a strange, sweet scent hits me—brown sugar and cinnamon, buried under layers of cheap cologne. I ignore it and head to the hamper, strip the bed, remake it.

When I turn to leave—
BAM.
I smack into something hard.

'Stupid wall,' I mutter.

But then—
Walls don't breathe.

My eyes widen.
That scent again. Brown sugar. Cinnamon. My wolf screams in my mind:
Mate. Mate. Mate.

I whisper it aloud, "Mate..."

CRACK.

A fist connects with my face. I hit the ground, the room spinning.

Then his voice—cold and cruel:

"I, Alpha Sam, reject you, Jamie, as my mate and Luna of the Blood Red Pack. Now get out of my face, you ugly, fat bum."

I don't even cry. I run.
Back to the attic. Back to my corner.

But something in me snaps.
Never again.
I clench my fists.

"That's right, girl."

The voice startles me.

"Who—who said that?"

"Oops! My bad," the voice says with a cheeky laugh.
"Name's Honor. I'm your tiger."

My jaw drops. "T-t-tiger?"

"Yup. And not just any tiger. You're a white tiger, baby. Your powers are coming soon."

My brain short-circuits. "Wow..."

"Pack your stuff. We're leaving."

"Leaving? Like, leaving leaving?"

"Yes," Honor says in the most obvious 'duh' tone.

I grab my things, scribble a note, and take off—heart racing, blood burning with something new.

This time, I'm not running away.
I'm running toward who I was always meant to be.